Tiger and Kitten
by sherlock.needs.a.case.holmes
Summary: Jim wants to have some fun, and Sebastian shows up fifteen minutes late. My first MorMor story. One shot Rated M for violence, gore, and smut.


**Note: This is my first MorMor story ****_ever_****, so go easy on me. It's also the first smut thingy I'll have posted, so please try not to judge ****_too _****hard. Plus, I have no experience with yaoi stuff because I am, for one thing, a female, and for a second thing, I'm a lesbian. So, yeah. Enjoy! Please feel free to rate and leave comments in the thing as well, I'm not totally afraid of hearing things. Constructive crit is welcome, but please leave your bashing and griping for private messages. Thanks!**

Text: Where are you?- JM

Text: Umm… Out?- SM

Text: Is that a question or a statement?- JM

Text: A statement?- SM

Text: Really, Seb, your punctuation is atrocious- JM

Text: Never mind. What do you want?- SM

Text: That's much better- JM

Text: What. Do. You. Want?- SM

Text: I want to fuck. Get over here- JM

Text: On my way- SM

Text: Good- JM

Sebastian practically crashed through the door, stumbling into the front room with a rifle slung over his shoulder. "You're fifteen minutes late," Jim called from the bedroom, quite annoyed. He emerged in the doorway, facing Sebastian from the other side of the room.

"Sorry boss. Had to take care of some- Wait… We didn't agree on a time…" Sebastian said slowly, tossing the rifle on the couch. He removed his leather jacket, folding it neatly over his arm. With his free hand, he rubbed the day old stubble on his face, slowly closing his eyes. "Jim, you have to tell me when you set a time limit," he complained, his eyes darting open again to find that the criminal mastermind had crossed the room in silence and was now centimeters from his face.

"You know what that means don't you?" Jim continued, not bothering to address Sebastian's complaint. Sebastian's eyes widened momentarily in fear and suspense. One of two things would happen. Either he would be shot on the spot (it was the second time he was late that week), or Jim would punish him in unimaginably cruel ways. Sebastian had no idea which situation was more likely, but he secretly hoped for the latter. He lived for Jim's punishment's, though he would never admit it. Admitting it might cause the punishment to stop. Or worse, it could get him killed because it was 'too predictable' or 'ordinary' or 'boring.'

Jim, hands in pockets, turned around, his back now facing Sebastian. "You know, I shouldn't let this keep happening. The punishment will have to be… particularly severe today," he drawled, tilting his head to one side, examining the wallpaper, imagining how well Sebastian's blood would compliment it. Suddenly, he whipped around, a taser in hand. Before Sebastian could so much as utter the word 'God,' Jim had already jabbed him in the side with the weapon, causing the sniper to double over, dropping his jacket and falling to the ground on his side, his entire body wracked with spasms of electric pulses messing with his nervous system.

Jim quickly pulled Sebastian up by the shoulders, shoving him towards the bedroom. The gunman stumbled forward, unable to resist for all the pain still rippling through every muscle in his body. Once in the bedroom, Jim tossed his employee onto the bed, pulling handcuffs out of a coat pocket and quickly snapping them to Sebastian's wrists, behind his back, making certain they were as tight as they would go. Then he flipped Sebastian over onto his stomach and began to tug at his shirt.

Meanwhile, as the spasms died down and Sebastian began to regain some control of his limbs, he groaned loudly, making sure Jim could hear him. "Oh, you'll be groaning a lot louder than that soon," Jim crooned, tearing the fabric of Sebastian's tee-shirt and pulling it all the way off. Sebastian whined in response, the noise sounding weird coming from his usually gravely throat.

Jim left the bedside for a moment to pull a cardboard box out from under the dresser. "You remember this box, Sebby?" Jim teased, opening the lid slowly. Sebastian tilted his head to see better, and, catching sight of the box, closed his eyes, pretending to be terrified. If he dared say so himself, he was quite the actor. Jim grinned at his discomfort, pulling out an electric curling iron from the box and pulling it into the outlet next to the bed, setting the temperature to 204 degrees Celsius.

Sebastian's heart pounded in his chest, a mix of emotions swirling inside him; fear, excitement, anticipation. The iron finally heated, Jim picked it up off the bedside table and hovered it beside Sebastian's tender side. "Ready darling?" Jim asked softly, mockingly. "This might sting just… a bit." On the word 'just,' Jim touched the searing metal to Sebastian's skin, making him cringe in pain. He held on as long as he could before crying out in pain as the heat burned through his flesh. Jim finally removed it, a large patch of skin coming off with it. Sebastian gasped as the left over burning sensation dissipated.

Next Jim pulled out a cat o' nine tails, brushing the knotted ends along Sebastian's back. Sebastian shivered as the cold leather trailed over the toughened skin of his back. Many old white scars, and some fresh red ones, were scattered along his flesh, mostly from the war, but some from Jim himself. This was not an unusual punishment to receive.

Sebastian was in mid thought, completely unsuspecting when Jim first whipped his back. He flinched in pain and sheer surprise at the strike; Jim usually waited a moment to relish Sebastian's anticipation, but this time he hadn't hesitated.

Jim whipped him again and again, faster now, in time with the words, "Don't. Fucking. Move!" Sebastian obeyed as best as he could, his eyelids still flicking shut at the very suggestion of another lashing. This only made things worse when Jim noticed, and he received more lashings than he ever had before. Just when Sebastian thought he was going to break, the whipping stopped. He looked over to see Jim placing the bloodied whip back in its place in the box; he then closed the lid and slid the box back under the dresser.

Sebastian sighed. Now came the good part. The part he loved most. The part where he got fucked. It was still punishment, and God did it hurt, but it felt so good, too. The worst part was that, in this case, he couldn't help himself, as his hands were cuffed behind his back. But that didn't matter. He would be hard within a minute of Jim teasing him, close after a few pumps of Jim inside him, and finished by the time his insides were torn and bleeding.

Jim didn't bother grabbing the lube, as he was already hard and wet with pre-cum from beating the hell out of his favorite sniper. He straddled Sebastian's legs, bending over to tug at his waistline with his teeth teasingly. He stopped for a moment to trail his longue up Sebastian's back, to his shoulders, around each shoulder blade, and stopping at the hairline on his neck. There he bit down hard, causing Sebastian to jump. Jim reached down with a hand in response, grabbing the wound from the curling iron and squeezing it, which elicited a shrill sound from the base of Sebastian' s throat. "I said don't _fucking_ move!" Jim shouted in his captive's ear, sitting up and ripping down Sebastian's trousers with both hands, leaving them bunched up around his ankles.

"Oh God, don't stop Jim," Sebastian let slip, immediately regretting speaking aloud. But Jim didn't respond, didn't even tell him to shut the fuck up. Instead, he continued just as Sebastian asked, for a change. If there was one thing Jim was good at, it was being unpredictable. The consulting criminal ran his hands down the perfect shape of Sebastian's curvy ass, squeezing the two cheeks together, playing with his favorite employee; the only employee he would ever do this with. Without wetting it, he slowly slid a finger inside Sebastian, his long finger nail scratching up his insides as he curled his finger up.

Needless to say, Sebastian groaned aloud at Jim's teasing, just as he had promised. He writhed and squirmed at Jim's touch, and this time the criminal let him. He was enjoying every moment of this, his relative freedom to move about and thoroughly relish the pain and pleasure.

Jim didn't stop with one finger. He slid in a second, and then a third, earning more moans from Sebastian, becoming louder and louder as Jim slid them in and out, occasionally curling them fiercely. By this time, as he had predicted, Sebastian was hard as a rock, and dripping with pre-cum onto the covers of the bed. After his finger teasing was finished, Jim pulled down his own pants, centering himself over the sniper, slowly pushing into him all the way. Sebastian very nearly screamed as Jim grabbed either side of his ass and pulled out almost all the way, slamming back in. He repeated this process over and over, gaining speed as he went along. Sebastian was definitely close now, and really starting to wish he could touch himself.

As if Jim had read his mind, one hand slid into his pocket and pulled out a key, unlocking the cuffs and ordering Sebastian to touch himself. Sebastian did so eagerly, earning him a wide grin from Jim. Both of them were thoroughly enjoying it as they kept time together; Jim going in and out, Sebastian sliding his hand up and down his own shaft. Jim finished inside him, triggering Sebastian to come as well, the warm, sticky fluid soaking the bed, pooling under him. Jim pulled out, hovering over his only friend in the world, his beloved sniper. "Seb?" He asked softly, rolling the man over. Sebastian's eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily.

"Yes?" Sebastian groaned, opening an eye to look up at Jim.

"Thank you," Jim said, stroking Sebastian's face. Sometimes it was good to appreciate the things you had in life. After all, Sebastian could be caught by the police tomorrow, or shot next week. Then where would Jim go? He was happy right here, with his very own lover.

"You're welcome, Jim," Sebastian said with a tired grin. With that, Jim fell on Sebastian, covering his face, his neck, his chest with kisses. Then, for good measure, he bit Sebastian's lip hard, causing the sniper to frown. "Ow! What was that for?" He asked, pouting.

Jim laughed evilly. "Because you're mine," he said darkly. "And I have to keep you in line." Thoughtfully he added, "And don't think you can get away with being late again."

"Yes sir," Sebastian said, suddenly very serious. You really had to be careful in a job with James Moriarty.

**Note: Any thoughts? Questions? Comments? Concerns? All you have to do is leave your questions/comments/concerns in the thingy below. Thanks for reading, and have a great day!**


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